


My Queen

by stonyfangirl2019



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Childhood Friends, Conspiracy, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Half-Elves, Half-Human, Long before the Hobbit takes place, Murder, No Smut, Romantic Fluff, Strong Female Characters, Thranduil Not Being An Asshole, Young Thranduil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonyfangirl2019/pseuds/stonyfangirl2019
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faervel never fully recovered from her father's death. In her frustration to fully control her emotions again she gradually loses herself even more. Now Thranduil will help her to become the elleth she once was. </p><p>He loved her in his youth. She's different now, but he still loves her, he'll always love her. They don't know that. They don't know her. They don't know that she's his Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Good! Good!” yells my father as I swiftly move out of Thranduil’s choke hold then tuck and roll backwards. I brace myself as Thranduil comes running towards me with a frustrated grunt. At the last second I twirl to my right leaving him to fall flat on the ground.  
“Thranduil! What was that!? You attacked her like a half-brained orc! And what about your tuck and roll!? Where was your tuck and roll!? You are always supposed to tuck and roll!” my father opens his mouth ready to say something more.  
“I was caught off guard. Goheno nin (forgive me),” Thranduil interrupts bowing graciously. My father sighs and shakes his head.  
“We will finish learning evasion and counter-attack techniques tomorrow. I have a meeting now,” my father says as he turns to go. I start towards the benches near the room's exit to get my things when my father stops me.  
“Ah, I almost forgot, Faervel,” my father beckons for me to come.  
“Yes, Ada? (father)” I say with caution as I walk towards him. “Have I done something wrong?”  
“Hmm? No, I just wanted to inform you that Faen would like you to be a sparring partner for the younger elflings combat class,” he smiles at me expectantly.  
“That is wonderful!” I say putting on my widest smile knowing he probably asked Faen to allow me this opportunity.  
“Well, I will be on my way then,” my father says with a slight nod after a moment of silence. I collect my things from the benches, but as I pick up my cloak a flash of silver catches my eye. I reach behind the bench and pick up a shiny silver leaf-shaped pin which belongs to Thranduil. I rush out of the room to the palace gardens where I know Thranduil often goes after our lessons.  
“Hîr vuin (my lord), you left your cloak pin in the drill room,” I say when I find him sitting on a bench by the garden’s pond. The gentle breeze bristles his long white hair as he stares into the distance.  
“Will you not scold me for being so irresponsible?” he says teasingly as he turns to me smiling.  
“No,” I say mock exasperated. “I found it behind one of the benches, so I assumed you were not being irresponsible... this time.” Thranduil chuckles at this and we fall into silence. Thranduil looks into the distance and fiddles with the pin in his hands.  
“Why do you always address me so formally? We are good friends, are we not?” he says suddenly.  
“Yes, but you are the prince and the heir to the throne, it is only right.”  
“Yes, but we are still elflings. I will not be king for years. You can address me as your equal.”  
“Hîr vuin, you would not even know my name if my father was not the head of the king’s guard and your personal teacher. In my own right I am nowhere near your equal.”  
“Nowhere near!?” Thranduil exclaims raising his eyebrows. “I am not the one who is the most skilled elfling in most combat fields! You beat me every time we spar!” he looks away when he says this.  
“You would beat me if you would just control your emotions when you fight.” I say with an even tone. “The more mistakes you make when you fight the more unfocused and irrational your attacks are.” Thranduil looks at me again with a bit of a frown.  
“Besides when I say we are not equals I mean in status. You are the prince and will one day be king. I am an elandili’s (half-elf’s) daughter. The most I can ever be is one of your personal guards,” I give him strained smile. He sighs, his frown deepening.  
“You are far beyond my equal in my eyes,” he barely whispers standing up  
“What?” I ask.  
“Nothing,” Thranduil says looking at me for a moment before walking up the garden’s path back to the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Faervel said she is the daughter of a elandili (half-elf) she meant her mother. Her mother, who died when Faervel was very young, was half human.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the second part of this chapter many years have passed. Thranduil is king and Faervel is the top combat training instructor.

I stare at the intricate designs on the ceiling, remembering the times my father made up stories about the faces and places these swirling lines made. A stray tear escapes the corner of my eye and slowly makes its way down my cheek. More tears well up and I prepare myself for when they fall, allowing the first sob to form in the back of my throat. I hear a knock.  
“Faervel? Can I come in?” Thranduil’s voice is tender and wracked with concern.  
“Yes,” I say with as steady a voice I can muster. He enters the room with his usual regal demeanor, but the hardness that usually masks the emotions which dance in his eyes is not there, leaving the sadness and concern that play on his features plain for me to see. I sit up in my bed as he brings the chair from my working desk over and sits down.  
“I came back as soon as word got to me in Rivendell,” Thranduil says watching my every move.  
“Diola lle (thank you),” I say giving him a strained smile.  
“There is no need for gratitude, Caranor was like a second father to me,” he says placing his slender hand on mine.  
“Ada always said you were like the son he never needed,” I say attempting a laugh, but it comes out as a strangled sob. Thranduil looks at me with a concerned frown.  
“Hallaer (tall one), there is no need to hide your tears. I did not come to force you to dry them. I came to give you comfort,” I feel a sob forming in the back of my throat and look away, but Thranduil holds my chin and forces me to look at him. Tears well up in my eyes and I let out a choked sob. Thranduil sits on the bed beside me and pulls me into his arms. I cry into his chest as he strokes my head reassuringly.  
“I almost forgot,” he says moving a few red curls from my face before reaching into his robes and producing an envelope.  
“My father asked me to give this to you. It is from Caranor,” I look at it then at him, my lips trembling.  
“Goheno nin (forgive me), I guess now is not a good time,” Thranduil says as he places the letter on my bedside table. He holds me again this time resting his head atop my own. I cry softly into his chest focusing on his heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest to keep from falling apart.

. . .

“Pe-channas (idiot), you approach then you attack, you do not attack as you approach!” I yell at Lach, one of my students. He is my worst student and yet he thinks he is the best. He has no respect for authority, especially my authority.  
“Auta miqula orqu, lanner (go kiss an orc, wide one)!” Lach yells back giving me an icy stare. His sparring partner takes this opportunity to tackle and pin him.  
“Humph, and that is why you should pay attention, ruthaer (angry one),” I say with a smirk.  
“You distracted me!” Lach exclaims outraged.  
“I was instructing you, you are supposed to simply listen and take note, not respond and certainly not look at me,” I say in a condescending tone.  
“That is true, Faervel, but you are not supposed to insult your students when you do so,” Faen, the head of the king’s guard and my direct superior, says as he walks over.  
“Faervel, might I have a word with you?” Faen beckons for me to follow him. We go to his office. I walk in before him. He closes the door behind him then sits behind his desk. He looks at me for a moment.  
“You can sit down,” Faen says gesturing to one of the chairs by his desk.  
“Oh, I would prefer to stand,” I say awkwardly. Faen raises his eyebrows.  
“Well, Um, I have my sword on my belt. For some reason I could never figure out how to sit without taking the sword or the whole belt off,” I laugh awkwardly. Faen gives me a strained half smile.  
“Do you know how many complaints I get about you a week?” he says. I shrug.  
“10! That is almost 2 per day and you only do real work three days a week!” he exclaims  
“It is not my fault there are so many disrespectful elflings who cannot take a stern talking to,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.  
“However that is not what you do, Faervel. You insult them and put bits of advice between the insults,” I can tell he is trying to keep an even tone.  
“Besides, they are not the only ones who complain,” Faen says furrowing his eyebrows. “What has happened to you, Faervel? You used to teach so much like your father and be so much like your mother. There was a time I thought you might even become better than both of them. What would they thi-  
“Do not bring my parents into this! I know what they would think! I do not need you to tell me what they would think!” I yell slamming my hands down on his desk, glaring at him. He sits back in his chair and shakes his head.  
“You can go now, Faervel,” he says in a disapproving tone. I lean off his desk roughly and slam the door as I walk out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear in the first part of the chapter Faervel is crying because her father died. Also, Thranduil calling Faervel hallaer (tall one) is an inside joke between the two of them. Faervel is slightly shorter than the average female elf because she is quarter human. Also because of Faervel's human genes, she is not as slim as the average elf, which is why Lach calls her lanner (wide one).


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faen seeks advice from Thranduil on how to deal with Faervel.

I walk down the palace halls towards my office. I notice the guards as I walk by them. I stop and inspect them from the corners of my eyes. Their posture is not right.  
“Stand up straight!” I command, then continue walking. As I round a corner a voice calls to me.  
“Hîr vuin (my lord)!” I stop abruptly and turn to find Faen rushing towards me.  
“Khila amin (follow me),” I say as I turn and continue walking. Once we are in my office Faen begins talking.  
“Hîr vuin, Faervel is only becoming more of a problem and I have no idea how to deal with her. Some elves want her banished, others want her to simply be taught manners. However, neither of these ideas would work because…” I allow my thoughts to drift to my memories of Faervel as Faen continues to panic. I think of our times together in the palace gardens. I always loved sitting by the garden’s pond, the flowers there had a scent like her hair. Her hair, how I loved her hair. Those red curls that flow down her back like a gentle stream, rarely have I seen a curl out of place. And her eyes, those gorgeous green gems. How I miss their friendly yet intrusive stare. My thoughts drift to the last time we spoke as good friends. The shameful things I said to her, the way she looked so deeply wounded and betrayed. A feeling of regret begins to creep in and I immediately force myself to focus on Faen’s panicked babbling. It is beginning to annoy me.  
“I could demote her, but saying that will work is just wishful-  
“Dina (be silent)! Send her to me. I will deal with her,”  
“Oh, diola lle (thank you), Hîr vuin,” Faen says, bowing before walking out. I lean back in my chair, thinking about the events of the last few minutes. Panic sets in as I realize what I said. How am I supposed to deal with her!? Faen is right none of those ideas will work. Banishing her is too harsh. She would never agree to be taught manners. All the same, manners are likely not her problem. Demoting her will only serve to anger her. What am I to do!? An idea suddenly comes to mind when I hear a knock and Faervel enters.  
“You requested my presence, Hîr vuin,” she says indifferently, bowing graciously. She is wearing a simple tight waisted dress. The weapons belt I've often seen resting just below her waist is not there.  
“Sit,” I say. Faervel sits down and looks at me, her face expressionless. Her eyes, cold and emotionless, bore into me. Silence settles in and I begin to feel uncomfortable.  
“How are you?” I say attempting a smile, but I fear it comes out as a grimace.  
“I am...well,” Faervel says plainly.  
“Good...good,” I say nodding as I turn to look out the window. It has a perfect view of the garden. I look to its pond, admiring the glistening surface and budding bushes and trees surrounding it.  
“I have been told many elves are complaining about you,” I say turning back to Faervel.  
“I do not see the concern, I am simply doing my job,” she says defensively,while crossing her arms over her chest.  
“This is a serious matter. Some of them want you banished!”  
“Then banish me, Thranduil!” Faervel yells standing up abruptly and pounding a fist down on my desk. I look at her taken aback. So this is who she has become, a beautiful elleth with a temper like a hot-headed dwarf. If my plan is going to work I can no longer address her in a pleasing manner. I stand up straighter and put on a stern face. I lean into Faervel’s face till our noses are almost touching.  
“You will address me as Hîr vuin,” I whisper harshly. Faervel stands up straight, her face an emotionless mask, but her eyes are no longer cold.  
“Yes, Hîr vuin,” I sigh and settle into my chair.  
“Report to me in the garden after breakfast tomorrow morning,”  
“Yes, Hîr vuin,”

. . .

I let out a frustrated huff as I walk away from Thranduil’s office. What is with him being nice, asking how I am, then blowing up the moment I get out of line. Of course, I should have been more respectful, he was only trying to help. But why is he helping now, after all these years. I sigh, this is all so confusing! Why is this all so confusing!?  
“Ugh, why is he so confusing?” I say in a frustrated whisper as I turn into the empty corridor which leads to my room. I enter my room and gently close the door. I rest my head against the door for moment before sitting down in front of my looking glass. I pick up my brush and begin to slowly brush my hair. I think about the events of the day. All the arguments I had, all the times I lost my temper. I think of Thranduil’s face when I yelled at him. He looked so astonished and a little disappointed, but I do not understand why. Did he not think ill of me until that moment? But he has heard of my behaviour from other elves, how could he think anything but ill of me? A lump forms in my throat and tears well up in my eyes. I am such a disappointment. I am disappointed in myself. Faen is disappointed in me. Thranduil is disappointed in me. My father is probably turning in his grave. My mother….would she even be able to look at me if she saw me now? I place my brush down with a trembling hand. I look at my face in the mirror. Tears are streaming down my face and my lips are quivering. My body shakes violently with each heaving sob.  
“What have I become?” I whisper over and over. The words slowly morph into incoherent mumbles as I continue to cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any questions or feedback please leave a comment.


	4. Chapter 3

“Faervel, get out of bed, this instant. You missed dinner last night and….ugh I cannot do this. Can you please get up Fae?” I groan and roll over onto my back, then turn to look at my dear friend Meldes.  
“Mel, I cannot….I cannot face him,” I whine whilst rubbing my face with my hands.  
“Cannot face who, dear?” Meldes asks as she gracefully sets herself on my bed.  
“Thranduil, he said I am to meet him in the gardens after breakfast,” I grumble into my hands. Meldes tenderly reaches over and gently draws my hands from my face.  
“Oh Fae, you know you must go,” I simply sigh and pout at her in response. She tilts her head to the side and raises an eyebrow. I sigh and slowly sit up. Meldes hands me my hairbrush and I grudgingly begin to brush my hair.

. . .

I rush along the familiar paths of the palace gardens. I am late and I am sure Thranduil will have my head. I turn another corner and stumble into the corner of the garden which enshrouds the pond. Thranduil sits on a bench set under a small golden chain tree looking almost like a shadow of his young self.  
“Heruamin (My Lord),” Thranduil stands and turns motioning for me to sit.  
“I inquired about you during dinner, at which you were not present,” Thranduil says as he sits down beside me.  
“I was tired, so I took a nap. I did not wake till morning,”  
“Hmm, I see….it seems to me many elves respect you. You are no less than excellent in all combat fields, your posture and etiquette are exemplary…” I begin to feel uncomfortable as Thranduil continues to talk. I did not expect him to say this. I thought he would scold me and then give me a punishment he thinks I will hate, but I really will not mind. Instead, he is saying all this and confusing me more than ever. When did this stupid king become so confusing. I used to be able to read him better than an untrained orc. My thought process is interrupted when Thranduil says but.  
“When you open your mouth…” He pauses. I take a moment to process what he said.  
“Auta miqula orqu (Go kiss an orc), Thranduil,” I say standing abruptly Thranduil stands as well, turning to me sharply, anger in his eyes.  
“How dare you! Have you no respect!? I could easily banish you like all my subjects want, but no I am helping you!”  
“No one asked you to help me! All of your subjects want me banished! There is no reason for you to help me unless you feel obligated to!”  
“You know what, I do feel obligated because we were good friends once before your father died and before you became an ascarer (impetuous one)!” I sit down, taken aback. Thranduil looks at me with a look resembling regret flickering across his face.  
“Goheno nin (Forgive me), that was….uncalled for….it is your fault that things turned out the they did between us….I….I do not blame you for what happened,” Thranduil sits down beside me and reaches to take my hand, I pull it away.  
“Huh, it is true what they say. You are a two-faced unguer (hollow one).” A look of hurt briefly plays on Thranduil's face before his expression hardens.  
“These are my terms….no this is my command,” he leans in close to my face.  
“You will be at my side every minute, every second of each day from sunrise till sunset. Unless you are bedridden. Otherwise you will run, walk, limp, or crawl if you have to or you will find that my obligation to my subjects is stronger than my obligation to you,” he turns away and looks off to the distant skies.  
“You are dismissed,” I bow and begin to walk back to the palace. My stomach lurches when I think of what he called me, an ascarer. Is that really what he thinks of me? Or was it something he said out of anger? Neither way he would not have said that if I had not made him angry. Would he? I enter my room and collect my bow and arrow. As I start towards the training room I bump into Norawarth, one of the King’s counsel and a dear friend to my parents.  
“In a rush are we?” he says warmly with a knowing smile.  
“Um.…no, I was….just caught up in my thoughts,” I say avoiding eye contact.  
“Well, you should be more aware of your surroundings when you do so or someone might get hurt,” he then continues walking, patting me on the shoulder as he goes. I continue to the training room. I place my weapons belt down when I get there and make my way towards the targets. I take a bow from my quiver, position it, pull back then release. I shoot another, then another and another. Each time I hear the thump of the arrow hitting the target I feel my mental tension melt away just a little bit more.

. . .

I stare at the flickering flames in the hearth of my bedroom. That did not go the way I had planned. I should have controlled my temper. No, I should not have insulted her, that was when it all went to ruin. Although, I did not expect her to react in that manner, but she is so unpredictable now, I should not have expected everything to go my way when she is like this. One good thing did come out of this, she knows that I am king and that I am not the pushover I used to be. She cannot expect to be in control now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear the last part of this chapter is from Thranduil's point of view. Please ask questions and leave feedback.


	5. Chapter 4

“We shall never see each other anymore,” Meldes says with a sigh, turning from my mirror.

“We can see each other after dinner until curfew,” Meldes perks up instantly when I say this.  
“Yes, then you can tell me every detail of your day,” she says with a pleased smile. “Starting today, since you will be sitting at the royal table for dinner.”  
“What!?” I sit up abruptly from my bed, on which I had been lying, slightly dozing.  
“Did you not read the instructions sent to you?” Meldes throws the scroll at my head. I huff giving her a slight glare before I examine the scroll. It clearly states that my new duties begin at dinner this evening. I sigh and plop back on my bed tossing the scroll aside.  
“This means I can dress you in one of those beautiful gowns you have never had occasion to wear,” Meldes gets a dreamy look in her eyes.  
“I have had occasion to wear them, but did not because they were my mother’s,” the dreamy look in Mel’s eyes disappears.  
“Oh, I am sorry...I thought-  
“It is fine, Mel,” I say sitting up. “You did not know.” Silence settles in. Meldes plops in the bed beside me. We stare at the ceiling together in silence. Suddenly, Meldes sits up with a smile and a glint in her eye.  
“I know! You can wear one of my dresses,” Mel looks at me grinning. I sigh rolling over onto my stomach in response.

. . .

“There, now you look fit to eat with royalty,” Meldes says with a pleased smile. I look at myself in the mirror and turn, inspecting myself from all angles.  
“It is a bit tight up here,” I say, placing my hands just below my cleavage. “And it is too long.”  
“Hmm, well I cannot do much about that without making permanent alterations,” Meldes inspects me thoughtfully for a moment, then tugs the dress up a bit at the waist and fixes the neckline.  
“That is the best I can do,” she says fixing a curl, which had fallen out of place, behind my ear “But, you look beautiful, Fae. Just be careful when you walk or you might trip over the dress and-  
“Ok, ok, Mel. I am not a pe-channas (idiot), I know what to do.” I say laughing a little. Mel sighs and smiles at me.  
“Well, I must prepare for dinner. I will see you later, Fae.” I give her a slight nod as she exists my room. I look at myself in the mirror. I wonder what Thranduil will think?

. . .

I sit in the dining hall listening to the chatter of the council members and those who sit at the surrounding tables, as we wait for the meal to be served. Faervel’s absence has me on edge. The council already did not agree with my dealings with her. Her absence certainly will not help. Just as I begin to call over a servant to demand her summoning, she enters the hall striding gracefully in a simple yet elegant, white gown. Rather than having her hair in the usual tamed mane, either side is secured by two slim braids. I would take pleasure in her beauty if I was not so displeased.

. . .

When I enter the dining hall, I immediately lock eyes with Thranduil. I silently pray he is not angry, but when I near the royal table I see the blatant displeasure displayed on his face. As I continue towards the table, I hesitate when I notice the only vacant seat is directly to the right of the head of the table, which is where Thranduil is seated. I avoid Thranduil’s pointed stare as I sit down glancing around at the council members who take no notice of me.  
“Ah, Faervel, you have decided to grace is with your presence,” says Baralin, a council member who recently came from Rivendell. He smiles wide at me. It is quite clear that he fancies me. Mel has occasionally teased me about it ever since he said I am a glorious warrior angel in his eyes. Of course, I will never return his feelings. Although he has achieved a great deal, he is not much older than my, now former, students and therefore, too young for me. I give him a half smile straightening a utensil I had shifted when I say down. He watches me intently from his seat right across from mine.  
“You look rather beautiful this evening,” he says loudly, catching the attention of others at the table.  
“Thank you,” I say plain faced. He smiles, a pleased expression gracing his face as he opens his mouth to speak.  
“I-  
“I am not sure Faervel deserves such praise,” Thranduil says suddenly. I look at him, but he has now turned his gaze to Baralin, who looks utterly taken aback.  
“Herumin (my lord), I must disagree. Faervel looks stunning,” Baralin smiles at me widely when he says this. Thranduil acknowledges his words with a simple nod and a thoughtful look.  
“I was not disagreeing, Faervel does look rather well,” Thranduil glances at me and I see the fire in his eyes.  
“But one who cannot follow simple orders does not deserve such a compliment,” Thranduil continues, now turning to his gaze to me which I boldly return. I know what he is doing, he is punishing me by indirectly scolding me. My father used to do it all the time and Thranduil knows I hated it. I can hear some council members whispering to each other. I hear snippets of their whispers.  
“He cannot control her,”  
“She is too rebellious,”  
“No, he is too weak.” Thranduil’s expression darkens and the corner of his mouth twitches.  
“I will speak with you later,” he whispers harshly to me. The servers bring the food at that moment. Thranduil leans back in his chair, a look of displeasure still on his face. I stare at my plate avoiding the looks of Baralin and the other council members. Thranduil does not so much as even glance my way for the rest of dinner. Baralin makes small chit-chat with me every once in awhile, but I only listen to half the things he says. Thranduil leaves before dessert is served without a word. When the servers begin to clear the plates away, I feel relieved that I can finally retreat to my room, but before I get up a server comes and tells me Thranduil requests my presence.


	6. Chapter 5

I sit in my office, my chair facing away from the door. Tonight was quite unsuccessful. I took control, but Faervel challenged me. I pull off my crown and stare at it for a moment. Many of the council members believe me to be weak and now I have given them a reason to believe it. I toss my crown on my desk and lean back in my chair, closing my eyes. I begin to breathe slowly to calm my nerves, but a knock at the door startles me.  
“Enter,” I hear the door open and close. I stay seated, keeping my eyes closed and continuing the steady breathing.  
“Herumin (my lord),...” I hear Faervel’s words, but I do not listen. All I can think of is her constant disrespectful behaviour and my anger builds.  
“I will not listen to what you have to say unless it is a sincere plea for forgiveness. I have heard complaints about you for years and have done next to nothing. Now I have given you consequences, which create more disadvantages for than you, and yet you disrespect and humiliate me,” I stand up and turn to Faervel.  
“I want to make an example of you. I want to show all those who believe me to be weak and unfit to rule, they are wrong. To do this in a way that does not disadvantage you, you need to keep your disrespectful actions to a minimum or I will take the easy route in this situation and banish you. Can you agree to theses terms?”

. . .  
I’m completely taken aback. Thranduil has never been this direct and open before. Of course, I know my answer, I could never leave my home, but...  
“I will agree to your terms, but…” Thranduil raises an eyebrow, his face expressionless.  
“You do realize you do not have much say here?”  
“Yes, but I do not think I can agree to not say or do anything that may be considered disrespectful,”  
“To me?”  
“To anyone besides you,” Thranduil stares at me for a moment, then sits back in his chair.  
“You may go,” I stand up and start towards the door.  
“But, before you do let me just say, I think one day you might find being direct can create greater consequences than holding back some of your thoughts and feelings,”  
“I never talk about my feelings,”  
“Hmm,” I can hear a judgemental undertone to his voice. I stare at the back of his chair for a moment, wondering what he is thinking, before exiting the room. I think back to my meetings with Thranduil over the past two days. This one has been the only one during which I did not lose my temper. I find my way to my room. I enter shutting the door quietly behind me. I walk towards my bed, undoing the braids in hair as I do. I notice a note from Meldes on my pillow. I open it and read it.

Sorry Fae, I remembered I have a lot of outfits to make for the king and council members for next week’s special gathering. So, I really need my sleep. Hope dinner was good for you.  
Love, Mel.

I plop myself on my bed and immediately feel tiredness enthralling me. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off to sleep.

. . .  
I wake up to find another note from Meldes wishing me a good first full day in my new “position”. I change into one of my simple dresses, then sit in front of my mirror to brush my hair. I put on my weapons belt when I am done, then make my way to the dining hall for breakfast. Breakfast is only served to those who sit at the royal table and is a buffet for all other subjects. Most mornings I have opted to skip breakfast and practise my shooting or knife throwing instead, but now I must attend breakfast, despite my urgent desire to calm my nerves with some shooting.  
When I enter the dining hall, I find that the royal table is rather empty. I see Thranduil at the head of the table and a few council members sitting in seats to his right and left. I make my way to the table and find a different seat from last night, but as I sit down, I hear Thranduil call my name. I look to him and he gestures to the chair directly to his right, the same seat I sat in last night. I proceed to sit in the seat. Thranduil watches me pleasantly as I do.  
“You are on time today,” he says. I nod glancing at Baralin as he sits down.  
“Well then, does she deserve compliments today?” Baralin asks, picking up on the conversation. “Because I would like to say that Faervel looks ravishing this morning, do you not agree, Herumin?” Thranduil quickly looks me over.  
“I suppose so,” he says, his pleasant expression replaced by a strained serious one. I say nothing and Baralin begins talking about something or other, looking between me and Thranduil. We wait a bit for the other council members to come, then breakfast is served.  
Baralin carries most of the conversation throughout breakfast as I decided to not say anything and Thranduil only contributes a sentence or two here and there. The time goes by quite quickly to my contentment and Baralin’s discontentment.  
Just before breakfast is over and Baralin pauses in his ramblings, Thranduil leans over to me.  
“There will be a long council meeting after this, so I relieve you of your duties for now and will summon you after the meeting is over,” Thranduil leaves after saying this. I wait for more people to leave before leaving myself and going to the training rooms. I find a shooting class is taking place, so I turn to leave, but hear someone call my name. I turn and see Faen beckoning for me to come.  
“Faervel, you have come at just the right moment. Some of these elflings are having trouble shooting and I only remember the basics. Could you help them?” I open my mouth to say something thinking of how Faen constantly denounced my teaching methods. Then, I think of my agreement with Thranduil and the other things he said.  
“Uh, yes,” I say. A look of relief washes over Faen’s face.  
“Diola lle (thank you), Faervel. I really must go, I have many pressing tasks to take care of,”  
“Wait, Faen...What!” but, he was already gone. I turn to the elflings. They look about a hundred or so years younger than the young elves I was teaching not too long ago. A few of them turn to look at me, while others continue shooting. None of them miss their targets, most of them have only gotten arrows on the most outer ring. I can't tell if it is from poor aim or from a natural off centre gravitation. I need to find out before teaching them anything.  
“Alright, stop shooting and look here,” I say clapping my hands once. “From what your teacher has told me, some of you are having trouble shooting, but based on what I have just observed it seems all of you have trouble shooting,” I scan the elflings faces. I notice some confident expressions faltering a bit.  
“Some of you have trouble with the whole process of shooting while others just have problems with your aim,” an ellon raises his hand.  
“Yes,” I say.  
“I have good aim. I have shot a bullseye before,”  
“Well, good for you, uh what is your name?”  
“Thalawest,” he says standing up a little straighter.  
“Good for you, Thalawest,” a few of the elflings snicker.  
“Now, I would like to see each of you shoot. So, those of you who do not feel confident in your stance move to the right and the rest of you find a target,” three elflings move to the right, while the rest return to the targets and stand in position waiting for instructions.  
“Follow me,” I say walking to the end of the lined up targets farthest from the room's entrance.  
“You stand here,” I say pointing to one of the elflings and directing them to a target.  
“You here and you here,” I say pointing to the other two. I take one of their bows and show them the correct stance for shooting and the correct way to mark an arrow.  
“Now, you do it,” They each get in ready position and mark an arrow.  
“Ok,” I say addressing all the elflings.  
“I want each of you to shoot an arrow one after the other. Starting with you.” I point to the elfling at the other end of the lined up targets. They each shoot an arrow most of them hitting the first two rings and a few getting the third. I can tell some of them have habits of shooting slightly to the right or left of what they are aiming at.  
“Keep shooting, I’ll work with each of you one by one,” I say. I decide to begin with the elfling nearest to the door. I slowly work with each of them explaining their mistakes to them. I am halfway down the line when Faen returns.  
“ It is time for the next class to start,” he tells me when he pulls me aside.  
“Can I say something to them, before they are dismissed?” Faen smiles at me, seemingly pleased at my request, and nods.  
“Gather around trainees, I have something to say,” They all turn from the items they were packing away and gathering and look at me.  
“You all not only have great potential, but also a willingness to be taught. I encourage you to all continue on your current paths and I would be happy to teach any of you one-on-one,” I open my mouth to finish off with a pleasently farewell, but another thought comes to mind.  
“One of you told me that you are a good archer...and that is good. Being good is good. Being good is great, but good does not win wars. Good does not keep a race of immortal beings protected in these woods. Excellent does and all of you have the potential to be excellent archers if you work hard...You are dismissed,” They turn away from me chatting amongst themselves and continue their packing and gathering. I turn to leave and find Thranduil standing by the door.

. . .  
“Herumin, what are you doing here?” Faervel asks when she sees me.  
“I usually come here everyday to watch the elflings. I like to see the training of this kingdoms budding warriors,” I say. It is a lie of course. I first started coming every afternoon, after Faervel and I had our falling out, hoping to catch a glimpse of her between tasks, as she used to teach an archery class at this time. When she started teaching the older trainees, I continued my routine, wondering if I might find a young elleth or ellon that might become as excellent an archer as Faervel. None have shown the potential. Now I’ve come upon Faervel teaching these elflings the way her father used to.  
“I see you are quite the mentor,” I say. The corners of Faervel’s mouth twitches up slightly.  
“What you said to the elflings just now… it sounded like something Caranor would have said,” an unrecognizable expression crosses Faervel’s face for a moment, then she half smiles looking down, fiddling with the hilt of one of the knives on her belt.  
“Diola lle, Herumin,” she says looking up at me, with a look in her eyes I haven't seen in a long time. A sort of melancholy look with a bit of delight.  
“Herumin?” Faervel asks. I realize I have been staring.  
“Well, I have important things to do. Khilla amin (follow me),” I say, turning and walking down the hall.


End file.
